


Heart of a Hunter Act I

by MuchAmused



Series: Heart of a Hunter Saga [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Act I, Comfort/Angst, Doctor!Reader, Doctor/Patient, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hospital, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, In it for the long haul, Injury, Major Character Injury, Medical, Medical Examination, Medical Professionals, Medical Trauma, MuchAmused, MuchAmusedAboutNothing on Tumblr, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Reader is a Doctor, Series, Slow Burn, Whump, med
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 14:12:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16996527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuchAmused/pseuds/MuchAmused
Summary: When brothers turn up at your emergency room one night, you suspect there is more to them than the story they feed you to explain away the injuries. In an attempt to get to the bottom of it, you soon find they have more to keep secret than just their identities. Even more surprising, you have all the more in common for it.Act I is the beginning of a saga that spans several stories involving these specific characters. Each act will have a story arc and a satisfying finish, but the full journey continues through the saga.I'm very passionate about the entire saga. I've poured my heart and soul into it. Believe it or not,  4 stories are basically complete and just waiting to be shared.And it all starts here.





	1. Chapter 1

 

Friday nights in your ER were always crazy. You'd come in for your shift knowing that, but nothing could have prepared you for what was coming.

The only thing you had going for you as you came to the last few hours of your shift was that you hadn't been thrown up on yet. Then again, there was always time for that to change.

You'd just finished stitching up a head wound and dropping off the chart to the nurses station when the emergency doors swung open and a tall man who looked to be about thirty came through the doors in a rush.

"Can I get some help? My brother is unconscious in the car."

You called out to Janeane, the head nurse, and she immediately went for a gurney while you approached the man.

You introduced yourself as a doctor while you followed him back through the doors. An old, but pristine, black Chevy Impala was parked in the ambulance bay with the back door ajar.

"What happened?" you asked as you hurried over, pulling the door open the rest of the way.

"An impromptu game of rugby at the park with some college guys," he answered. "He got a little carried away trying to relive his glory days. Took a hard hit."

The brother was sprawled out across the backseat, his long frame cramped in the space. He was unresponsive with drying blood on his face from a head wound. You crouched down and pressed your fingers to his carotid, finding a pulse.

"How long has he been unconscious?" you asked as you put your stethoscope on.

"Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. I got here as quick as I could."

You listened to his chest just long enough to ascertain that his heartbeat was strong and steady and that air was moving through his lungs. "What's his name?"

"Dan," the brother said. "I'm Shawn."

"Well Shawn, we're going to get your brother inside and see what's going on."

Upon your initial inspection the obvious trauma was a laceration on his forehead, which had bled quite a bit, but wasn't too alarming.

You heard Janeane behind you and glanced over your shoulder to see that your med student, Roger had come out with her. He handed you a cervical collar and you gently fit it around Dan's neck to stabilize it. You just hoped there wasn't damage to his spine from his brother moving him.

Janeane went around to the other side of the car with the backboard, and Roger knelt on the front seat, facing backward. With some effort the three of you managed to carefully get the backboard under Dan.

You secured the straps over his chest and legs moved him onto the gurney. Shawn stayed behind to move the car from the ambulance bay while the three of you wheeled Dan inside.

"Sports injury, took a hit playing rugby. Possible concussion, possible cervical injury," you announced as you walked briskly, helping Roger guide the gurney to Exam 3 in a far corner of the emergency room. "I need vitals, and let's cut this shirt off him so we can get a better look at what we're dealing with here."

Janeane was quick to clip a monitor to his finger and wrap a blood pressure cuff around his bicep. His heart rate was 67, oxygen levels were at 94%, BP was 128/92.

Roger had finished cutting off his shirt then and you immediately recognized the trauma to his left clavicle. Deep red bruising was already starting to form at the center of the bone where a slightly elevated bump could be seen. And right below that was a tattoo on his chest that caused you to pause in your exam.

It was clearly an anti-possession symbol. You'd have recognized it anywhere.

_Holy shit._

_Hunters?_

You couldn't help but wonder as you gazed at him, but you couldn't be sure. You were seriously doubting the truthfulness of the rugby story, though.

  
You pulled out your pen light and checked both of Dan's pupils. They were reactive and equal. Shawn chose that moment to appear, concern written all over his face as he gazed at his brother on the gurney, brushing his hair out of his eyes. He answered questions for Roger about his brother, denying allergies to medications, or any medical conditions you should know about. He watched you work as you continued to assess Dan's condition.

"Roger, get a portable C spine and chest x-ray," you stated as you made a fist with your hand and ground your knuckles back and forth into Dan's sternum. He groaned in response and you breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hey big guy," you said, gripping his right hand with yours and leaning over to watch his face. "Can you hear me? Open your eyes for me."

His eyes fluttered open, and then immediately closed again in reaction to the harsh hospital lighting. He blinked a few times, furrowing his brow, but his hand tightened reflexively around yours.

"Dan," you said. "You're in the hospital. Try not to move. You're a little banged up, but we're taking good care of you."

His voice was deep and rough when he spoke. "It's Dean," he grunted. "Where's my brother?" He cleared his throat and called out, "Sammy?" His eyes darted from side to side frantically as your brain processed what he'd just said. His brother came forward then, leaning over in his line of sight. You stared at them both, incredulous.

Sam? Dean? God, it couldn't be ... could it? But the reality hit you like a ton of bricks.

These were the Winchesters.

Anyone who knew anything about things that went bump in the night knew of Sam and Dean Winchester. And somehow that changed everything and nothing all at once, but you knew what you had to do.

"What happened?" Dean - God, this was Dean Winchester - said.

"Don't you remember playing rugby at the park tonight?" Shawn - er, Sam - urged.

Dean looked indignant. "Rugby? Seriously? Come on, Sam."

And there went any chance of the rugby story being legit.

Dean pushed against the straps and cervical collar that were immobilizing him and then let out a frustrated sigh.

"Hold still," Sam told him. "You hit your head really hard. They just want to make sure your neck is okay before you move around."

"I'm fine," Dean said with a huff, and you could hear the edge of panic in his voice. "This is a waste of time, Sam. We need to get back out there."

"You were out cold ... for a while," Sam added. "Let the doctor check you over."

"I thought you said your name was Shawn?" Roger said to Sam.

Sam shrugged and just said, "It is."

You pinched Dean's left wrist, checking his pulse. You were concerned his broken clavicle could be impinging his circulation, but his pulse was strong, which meant the blood flow to his arm was good.

"I'm fine, really," Dean insisted through gritted teeth at your touch. "My brother's overreacting...."

You leaned over to look him in the eye and Dean looked up at you ... really looked at you - like he was seeing you for the first time - and the corner of his mouth hitched up in a smile. "Wait, you're my doctor?" he asked.

"Guilty as charged," you told him.

"Hmmm...." He wet his lips with his tongue and said, "Maybe this visit isn't a total waste of time after all."

"Glad you're on board," you said, smiling back. "And your brother's right. Do me a favor and relax so I can finish examining you. Think you can do that for me?"

Dean sighed in resignation. "Talked me into it."

"Have you had anything to drink tonight?"

"Not yet, but I like where this is headed." He grimaced in pain, trying to cover by following it with a smile. "You offering to buy, Doc?"

Janeane was shaking her head in an amused sort of way while she recorded his vitals down on a chart.

"Let's get 2 liters of O2 going," you told her, and she immediately began adjusting the levels on the machine nearby.

Roger introduced himself as he removed Dean's boots and socks. "Can you wiggle your toes for me?" he asked. "That's good. Any numbness or tingling anywhere?"

"No."

"Capillary fill time is adequate. Peripheral pulses are full to palpitation," Roger said to you.

"Just a little oxygen here," you told Dean before placing the nasal cannula below his nose. "Your O2 is a little on the low side. This will help."

Janeane began wiping the dried blood from Dean's face and irrigating the cut on his head with saline.

"Are you having any trouble breathing?" you asked Dean as you put on your stethoscope.

"No."

"I'm just going to take a listen here." You held the bell to his chest just below the anti-possession tattoo. His heart sounded clear, the rhythm was steady, and the rate was only slightly elevated. You moved through the different auscultation points, listening to the sound of the valves open and close, but you didn't detect any murmurs or irregularities.

"Cool tat," Roger said to Dean.

"Uh, thanks," Dean said.

"That some sort of tribal design? I bet chicks dig it. What does it mean?"

"Keep out," Dean said matter-of-factly.

You bit back a smile at Dean's response. "Roger," you said, drawing his attention back. "What are our concerns in regards to respiration with a clavicle injury like this?"

"Right," Roger said, pulling his focus in. "There's potential for the fractured bone to affect the lungs, depending on the severity and positioning of it."

"Good," you told him. "Listen with me and tell me what you hear." Roger put his stethoscope on while you looked to Dean and said, "I know it probably hurts, but do your best to take a deep breath for me."

Dean did as you asked, his chest expanding with the motion. You listened to his lungs while he breathed in and out, repeating the process as you moved the bell of your stethoscope to several places.

Roger straightened after a moment and took his stethoscope off. "Respirations at 16. Breath sounds are clear bilaterally. Breathing is not labored, diaphragmatic, or abdominal," he declared.

You nodded in agreement. "Did you note any intercostal retractions?"

"No," Roger answered.

"Good," you told him. "Where is x-ray?"

"I'll go find out what the hold up is," Janeane said.

"Tell me if there's any tenderness," you said to Dean as you began palpating his abdomen. His blood pressure was holding steady, so you didn't anticipate any severe internal bleeding, and your physical exam only confirmed your theory.

"I don't know the first thing about playing rugby," Roger said, trying to make conversation.

"Neither do I," Dean said. He tried to shoot a glare in Sam's direction, but the cervical collar prevented him from turning his head, so it wasn't very effective.

You grinned as you moved on to examining Dean's shoulder. You heard and felt his sharp intake of breath as you gently palpated the skin over the center of his left clavicle. "Sorry," you said. "I know it's tender. Take a deep breath and try to relax. It helps."

"Hard to relax when a pretty girl's got her hands on me," he said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. The x-ray tech arrived just then, pushing the portable x-ray equipment up to the side of the bed.

"Okay Romeo, we're going to let Gavin here take some pictures to see what the damage is," you told Dean. "Hang tight. I'll be right back." You gestured for Sam to step out with you and he and Roger followed you beyond the curtain and around the corner. "We'll know more in just a few minutes with these x-rays," you said to Sam.

"Thank you," Sam said, and he seemed genuinely grateful. He gave you a little smile and you found yourself wanting to tell him you were in on everything. To reassure him that you were going to have Dean back on his feet as soon as possible, and to ask what kind of monster had done this to him. But you bit your tongue and settled for reaching out to touch Sam's arm reassuringly instead.

When the tech was finished you quickly reviewed the images to find that Dean's neck hadn't sustained any damage, and that the fracture to his clavicle wouldn't require surgical intervention.

"Okay," you told Dean. "Good news. Your neck is fine, so we can get this annoying brace off you now." You gently undid the velcro straps that released the cervical collar and removed it, setting it aside. You adjusted the hospital bed to incline so he was sitting up comfortably. "Better?"

"Much. Thanks." Dean glanced at his brother before he turned back to you. "What's the bad news, Doc?"

"You have a concussion and your clavicle is definitely fractured," you explained.

"This," he gestured with a nod to his collarbone. "This will heal up all on its own. Nothing a sling, a stiff drink and a few weeks won't fix."

"You don't need surgery, so yes to the sling and the taking it easy for a few weeks," you told him.

"Awesome. Let's get this show on the road." Dean continued. "I've got unfinished business to take care of."

Sam gave Dean a pointed look and said, "I think you're going to need a break from rugby, at least for a bit."

"Enough with the rugby crap," Dean said. He trained his eyes on you again. "It was more of a hunting accident."

And the truth comes out.

"If it's all the same to you, Doc," Dean added. "We have a werewolf to kill."

Okay, so maybe a little more truth than he should have been sharing.

Roger was using butterfly bandages to close the superficial cut on Dean's forehead. He gave you a look that said he was doing everything in his power not to laugh at Dean's declaration. "Did - did you say werewolf?"

Sam shook his head and said, "He doesn't even know what happened. As you can tell, he hit his head pretty hard."

"And I'm definitely more concerned about your concussion than your collarbone," you told Dean. "How does your head feel?"

"Like Teen Wolf on steroids tried to use me for a wrecking ball," Dean offered, wincing as he slowly brought his left arm up, cradling it to his chest.

You gave him a sympathetic smile, wishing you could talk openly. "Would you say it's pain or pressure you're feeling?"

He blinked and frowned. "Both, I guess, but I can handle it. I'm no stranger to pain. Believe me. I'll be fine."

"Any nausea?" you continued. He shook his head, then looked like he instantly regretted it. "How about dizziness or feeling lightheaded?"

"Yeah, that," he admitted.

You assumed that meant yes to both as you folded your arms. "Have you had a concussion before?"

"This ain't exactly my first rodeo," he said with a wink, letting out a shallow breath.

A ring sounded and his brother pulled his phone out and said, "Sorry. I'll be right back. I have to get this." He slipped past the privacy curtain and disappeared.

"I want to hear more about these werewolves," Roger said to Dean as he finished with the cut on his forehead.

"We took out two-thirds of a werewolf pack twenty miles out of town," Dean elaborated. "The last lucky bastard got the drop on me."

"Do I even want to know what you do for fun?" Roger teased.

"Last week was a ghost," he volunteered matter-of-factly. "Run of the mill salt and burn."

"Salt?" Roger asked, standing back and grinning openly now.

Dean didn't seem even the slightest bit phased by Roger's reaction. "You see, with ghosts you have to salt and burn the bones."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean Winchester is lying on a gurney in your Emergency Room with a clavicle fracture and a concussion. But Dean's concussion is making him careless, and as you debate about how to best help him, you quickly realize treating his physical injuries is the easy part.

You shook your head slightly in disbelief. Dean Winchester was sitting in your ER talking about salt and burns. And he and Sam had taken out several werewolves in the area, if his story was to be believed. Even in his concussed state, Dean didn't seemed to be lost on the details. He was, however, openly talking about the case, despite Sam's attempts to reel him in. 

You wanted to pinch yourself. This was certainly not how you had imagined your Friday night going. Then again, Dean wasn't exactly how you would have imagined he would be, either.

You knew one thing for sure. You were going to make certain he received the best care you were capable of. It was the least you could do under the circumstances. 

Sam returned and you took the opportunity to get Roger out of there, hoping to catch the brothers alone soon. "I'm going to get you something for the pain. I'll be right back," you told them both, gesturing for Roger to follow you out to the nurses desk. 

"I hear you've got a couple of hotties back there," Lindsey, one of the nurses, said as you approached. 

"Not going to argue that," you told her.

"Yeah, but one of them is talking werewolves and ghosts, and I'm pretty sure he's losing it," Roger said. 

"He's concussed," Janeane piped in. "Poor kid doesn't know which way is up. He is nice to look at, though," she added with a wink, elbowing Lindsey lightly as she passed by her. 

"Let me come with you," Lindsey said to you as you updated Dean's chart with pain med orders and handed it back to Janeane. 

"No use," Janeane told her. "He's already smitten."

Lindsey raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "I thought you said it was his brother here with him?"

"I did. But you didn't see him flirting with the doctor."

Lindsey gave you a sly grin, and you felt heat rushing into your cheeks for some reason. "He's concussed," you stated, repeating Janeane's earlier defense. 

"Still a hot blooded man," Janeane added. "And it's not really his brain that has to know which way is up, if you know what I mean."

Lindsey giggled as you rolled your eyes, handing a clipboard to Roger. "I want you to check on Exam 5 for me."

"Anything to get me out of this conversation," Roger said. "Exam 5 ... was that the panic attack?"

"That was Exam 2. Discharged an hour ago. Keep up," you chastised with a smile. 

"Oh, Exam 5. Peanut allergy. Right." He nodded and headed off.

"Seriously, take me with you," Lindsey pleaded again. 

"You heard Janeane," you called out to her as you turned on your heel. "This one is all mine."

You'd stopped off for a cold pack on the way back to Exam 3, and you were about to pull the privacy curtain back when you heard the brothers having a not-so-quiet discussion that stopped you in your tracks. You paused, hand in mid-air, listening. 

"Yeah, well, first we're going to worry about you."

"That's sweet, Sam. Really, I'm touched. In the meantime there's a freaking werewolf on the loose."

"Believe me, I know, but I'm not going anywhere ... at least not until I know you've got your head on straight."

"I don't need a damn babysitter." 

"Actually, you kind of do. And lower your voice. This concussion is making you careless.... Hell, if I were your doctor I'd be getting a psych consult right now. Just shut up about the werewolf already."

You opened the curtain and the brothers went silent and looked up at you. You stepped closer and pulled the curtain closed behind you.

"Hey Doc, my brother here is getting kind of restless," Dean began as you leaned in, gently placing the cold pack against his skin near his shoulder. He sucked in a breath at the cold and then continued. "I was hoping maybe you could get me that sling and send me on my way." He flashed you a million dollar smile. "We still have a werewolf to kill. Unless, of course, you wanna grab that drink first."

"I'm sorry," Sam said to you, looking downright exasperated with his brother.

You smiled at him, dropping your voice to hushed tones. "Don't apologize. He's just too concussed to keep up the act."

Sam narrowed his eyes at you. "I ... I don't know what you-"

"It's okay, Sam," you added quietly. "I know the werewolf bit isn't just the concussion talking." Sam just blinked at you, taken aback by your statement and your use of his actual name. You smiled warmly. "I was raised by hunters," you said quietly, pausing a beat to let your statement sink in. 

Sam raised an eyebrow at you. "You're serious?"

"As a Wendigo," you told him, earning a disbelieving smile. "I've just been out of the life for a long time. I wanted to tell you earlier, but it's hard with everyone else around." You gazed at Dean. "I love the anti-possession tattoo, by the way," you added, gesturing toward Dean's ink. "Pure genius."

Sam let out a breath like he didn't realize he'd been holding it, his face relaxing some.

"Word gets around," you added. "I've heard some things."

"See, I told you she wasn't buying that rugby crap," Dean told his brother. He gave you the cockiest smile you'd ever seen and said, "So, now that we're all on the same page, can I go?"

Sam sighed, running his hand through his hair like he didn't want to have this conversation. "You're in no condition to hunt," he argued.

Dean blinked and his voice dropped without losing intensity. "You think I'm staying behind?"

"You have one good arm."

"I can shoot with one hand, Sam.”

"Let me make this easy, guys," you said. "Dean, I'm admitting you for observation." 

Dean's eyes grew wide. "What? No. Come on. I thought you said this was going to heal up okay?" He gestured with a nod to his collarbone. 

"It is," you said quietly. "But you've been talking about werewolves and ghosts in front of the hospital staff."

Dean rolled his eyes, and somehow managed to make even that look attractive. 

"The nurses and x-ray techs are blaming the concussion," you continued. "And - assuming you're not always this careless - I tend to agree." You looked to Sam for confirmation and he nodded, shrugging. "You need supervision, and that means you're stuck here with me tonight."

Dean's eyebrow went up slightly. "You know, Doc, if you wanted a little alone time all you had to do was ask."

It was Sam's turn to roll his eyes, and you couldn't help but grin. 

"So," you said, turning to face Sam. "If I promise to keep an eye on this one," you nodded in Dean's direction. "Will you promise not to end up in the bed next to him?" Your question was met with silence while Sam considered you. "I know you're going to finish the job, but you'll be going without your sidekick." 

"Hey now," Dean grumbled. "I am so not a sidekick, sweetheart."

"Just promise you'll be careful," you added, watching Sam.

He nodded and said, "I promise."

You pulled a pad from your pocket and scribbled your cell on a paper. "If you get into trouble, call me. I may be out of the life, but my brother knows people."

"Thank you," Sam said, "For everything. Really." He pocketed the paper and stood to pull his jacket on. Then he looked at his brother lying in the hospital bed and said, "I'll be back." He took a few steps and then added, "Stay."

Dean looked indignant. "Jerk."

Sam grinned and shook his head. "You're definitely concussed. That's my line ... jerk." 

You sensed an inside joke there but didn't ask as Sam let himself through the curtain. 

"And he gets your number?" Dean said, looking up at you. "Seriously?" You just shrugged at him, smiling. He sighed and watched you as you leaned in to adjust where the cold pack was resting against his clavicle. "So," he added. "When do you get off?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Dean admitted for the night, you hold up your end of the bargain you'd made with Sam to keep an eye on him. Even concussed, Dean is charming and warm, but what you don't expect to find us that you have much more in common with the green eyed Hunter than you'd have ever thought possible.

You had Dean moved to a room upstairs for the night and assigned Roger babysitting duties. It took all of your will power not to be distracted by the fact that the Winchesters had just rolled into town as you completed your shift. Two hours later, pizza from a 24/7 joint around the corner in hand, you made your way upstairs to relieve Roger. You let yourself in Dean's room and nodded for Roger to follow you out into the hall. 

"Are you sure?" Roger asked as he met you in the hall. "I can stay. This guy is a trip. I know for a fact I wasn't that entertaining when I had a concussion."

"Here," you said, holding the pizza box out to him. "Grab a slice and head home for the night. Rest up. You're with Donaldson tomorrow. You're going to need it."

Roger took you up on the pizza slice and told you to have a good night as he hurried off down the hall toward the elevator.

Dean was resting in the bed, wearing a hospital gown and the sling he'd been begging for. He had the remote in one hand and was listlessly flipping through the TV channels, but he instantly perked up when he saw you walk back in. 

He looked better than any man had business looking while sitting in a hospital bed with tubes and wires coming and going. He grinned as you slid the small rolling table over in front of him and set the pizza box down on it. 

"First you get handsy and now you're buying me dinner," he teased. "Careful, Doc. We're fast approaching a first date by anyone's standards."

You laughed and adjusted his pillow, elevating the bed a bit more for him. "A date would require me to not be working."

"Ah, come on. You're off the clock now."

You grinned. "Did Roger talk your ear off?"

"A little. Kid's a quick study."

You raised an eyebrow at him while you checked his IV. "In what exactly?"

"I was just teaching him about salt circles," Dean said matter-of-factly. 

"Good lord, Winchester. You are seriously concussed," you said with a disbelieving shake of your head.

The corner of his mouth hitched up. "That's what my doctor says."

You studied his vitals on the monitor. "Your O2 levels are holding steady. How about we lose the oxygen," you said as you carefully took the nasal cannula off of him and turned off the air flow on the machine. 

"One tube thingy down, ten to go," he said in an overly exaggerated tone. 

You used your pen light to check his pupils again. "My God, your eyes are so green...." The words left your mouth before you could stop them.

"Is that so?" Dean gave you a shit-eating grin and you tried to push down the feeling of butterflies in your stomach that went into flight as he gazed back at you. You grinned, rolled your eyes at him and put your pen light away while he eagerly popped the pizza box open, grabbing a slice with his good hand. "Cafeteria food here really that bad?"

"Tonight just called for pizza," you admitted, taking your white coat off to drape it across the back of the chair. You took a slice, getting comfortable there next to his bed in the chair. "How's your head?"

"Improving with the view," he said. You shook your head, a soft laugh escaping your lips. "What?" he asked, completely deadpan. 

"You," you said. "I'm just trying to decide if you're always like this, or if-"

"I'm this ruggedly handsome even without the battle wounds?" he said, grinning. 

"That's it, I'm adjusting your pain meds."

"You're funny."

"Any word from your brother?"

His face grew instantly serious at the mention of Sam. He checked his phone before shaking his head. "Nothing in the last hour."

"I'm sure he's okay," you told him, hoping you sounded more confident than you felt about it. 

Dean swallowed a bite and said, "Yeah. I'm sure he is." You felt his gaze on you as you absent-mindedly ate and stared at the late night talk show on the TV. "So, you seem to know a little bit about me," he said. "Aside from the fact that you're smart enough to have M.D. behind your name, look great in scrubs, and can appreciate an anti-possession tattoo, I know nothing about you. That hardly seems fair."

"You haven't exactly been flying under the radar tonight," you said, laughing. "Schooling med students on ghost prevention and all that."

"Hey, knowledge is power," he countered. “Or at least ... it seemed like a good idea at the time."

"That's the first hint I've seen that you might eventually come to your senses, Winchester."

"Well?" he said expectantly. "Spill."

You realized he actually expected you to talk about yourself. You didn't talk about that part of your life. Ever. Not to anyone but your brother, and you didn't see as much of him as you'd have liked. It was a hazard of the job. His, not yours.

"You're supposed to be resting," you tried. 

Dean wasn't buying it. "I'm stuck in a hospital bed with a bad arm and bad TV. Any more rested and I'd be in a coma."

"I meant you should get some sleep."

"Yeah, well, that's not going to happen," he said soberly.

You could read between those lines all too well. No sleep, at least not until he knew his brother was safe. 

"What do you want to know?"

Dean’s eyes sparkled a bit. "You said you were raised by hunters. Let's start there."

You sighed, chewed a bite of pizza and tried to figure out where to begin. "My dad lost his whole family when he was ten to a Wendigo," you started. "He was the only one who survived, and only because a hunter saved him."

Dean's expression was sympathetic, his eyes fixed on you while you spoke. "Dad was adopted, but he never got over it, or the idea of things like that hurting more people. When he was old enough he started studying, hunting. He met my mom when he saved her from a poltergeist. I guess they bonded over something normal people couldn't understand. Raised my older brother and me in the life."

"It's tough growing up like that," Dean said. 

"It can be. Yeah.” You realized he knew exactly what it felt like. “Our parents tried to add whatever normalcy they could for us. We had a home, although we spent a lot of time traveling. We home-schooled on the road, which made having friends hard. I'm sure you and Sam know how it is, having nothing in common with your peers."

Dean nodded in silent agreement, finishing off his first piece of pizza and starting on another. 

"Mom wrote novels under a pen name," you continued. "She didn't use real hunts in them, of course, but she did write about the monsters and fictional people they terrorized. She sold enough to help pay the bills, but that wasn't why she did it. She always said she hoped that by sharing the lore, and that part of reality most people don't know about, that maybe it would help people if they did encounter something evil."

"That's actually kind of brilliant," Dean said, his voice soft and low. "Sounds like your mom is amazing."

"She was," you corrected. "They both were."

Dean set down the last half of his pizza slice and said, "Hey, I'm sorry." Pain reflected in his eyes, the level of empathy radiating off of him in the moment catching you by surprise. 

You forced a smile and said, "It was a long time ago. They died saving people. I sort of always knew they would."

"And your brother?" he asked. 

"Won't believe it when I tell him I patched up Dean Winchester," you said, grinning. Dean almost looked flattered for a second, but he recovered quickly. "He's a hunter," you added. "He checks in by phone every Sunday like clockwork. But he's very supportive of my decision to practice medicine instead." You gestured with a sweeping hand around the hospital room. "I think it's because he'd just worry if he knew I was out there."

"That's what big brothers do," Dean said with a sad smile that failed to reach his eyes. You felt inclined to lean over and squeeze his good hand. You didn't miss the way the beeps from his monitor quickened slightly at your touch. Dean just looked up at you and said, "You found your own way to save people. Speaking from experience, I'd say you're damn good at it, too."

"You're just saying that because I control your pain meds."

He raised an eyebrow at you, grinning in a way that made you wonder if he was starting to realize he'd met his match. You smiled back, wondering how it was possible to feel so comfortable and familiar with someone you'd only just met.

It was another hour and a half before Sam called to check in. He was on the werewolf's trail, which was both good and bad news for someone sitting on the sidelines. 

When Dean hung up the phone he filled you in, saying that Sam was headed for a motel he thought the werewolf was staying in.

"He's got plenty of silver bullets, right?" you asked Dean, sitting on the edge of your seat. 

The smile on Dean's face as he gazed at you could only be described as affectionate. "Of course." Then he waved his good hand, gesturing to himself. "Winchesters. Remember?"

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. "Right. How could I forget?"

"I don't know." Dean grinned. "I'll do my best to make it difficult."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lying in a hospital bed has Dean feeling helpless and anxious as he awaits word from his brother. You do your best to keep Dean company, hoping Sam holds up his end of the bargain and returns in one piece

You and Dean watched bad TV in his hospital room to pass the time, but it was a terrible distraction that did little to ease the feeling of dread in the room that snowballed as time went on.

Dean eventually sent Sam a text, asking for another update, but it was a while before he got a call. He swore under his breath as he listened to Sam on the phone, his heart rate spiking on the monitor screen next to you. 

"A Kitsune? Are you sure?" Dean's brow furrowed, and you found yourself leaning forward again in anticipation. "Maybe you didn't hit him in the heart.... Okay, okay.... You know what this means?" Dean said gravely. "You're gonna have to get close enough to put a blade in the son of a bitch's heart."

You frowned as you listened, not liking what you were hearing. Dean seemed as thrilled about it as you were as he told his brother to be careful and hung up the phone.

"I thought it was a werewolf," you said. 

"Yeah, so did we, but Sam put a silver bullet in his heart and it barely slowed him down."

"What's a Kitsune?" you asked, holding your breath for the answer. 

"They're like werewolves," Dean said, moving the IV tubing out of his way. "Except they feed off part of your brain, and they have these wicked claws. We've only ever known two others...."

You shuddered at the thought, watching Dean's face grow solemn in a way that made you wonder what he wasn't saying. 

"I should be there," Dean grumbled. "This is a two man job."

"You know better than that," you told him. "With one good arm you'd only be a liability." He dropped his phone onto his lap, glaring at it. "Sam will be fine," you added. "He is a Winchester, afterall."

Dean let out a deep breath, letting his head fall back against the pillow. "I'm not cut out for this waiting behind crap. And I know you're right, but that doesn't make this any easier."

"How's your head?" you asked, hoping he might go with a change in the conversation topic. 

"It's fine," he answered reflexively.

A nurse walked into the room just then to check on Dean. She did a double-take when she saw you sitting by his bed. 

"I thought you'd gone home," she said as she handed Dean a fresh cold pack and proceeded to attach a new bag of saline to his IV line.

"Oh Evelyn, you know me. I'm always here," you said dramatically, smiling at her. 

"It's the middle of the night and you've been here forever. You must be tired. Go on home and get some sleep. I've got this, really," she assured you, shooting Dean a furtive glance.

"I know you do," you told her. "Turns out we're from the same small town." You gestured to Dean and he nodded, backing up your story. "Our dads worked together and I promised his brother I'd keep an eye on him for a bit."

“You going to want breakfast?” she asked Dean. 

He shook his head. “Not hungry.”

"Mmmkay," she murmured as she took note of Dean's vitals. "Your blood pressure is up and your heartrate is elevated," she told him, frowning. "What's the matter? Too tough to ask the doctor to up your dosage?"

"Just excited to see you again, Evelyn." Dean told her with a noticeable bite of sarcasm. 

He smiled at her and she mumbled, "This one's trouble," to you as she left the room.

You gave Dean a pointed look that was made less effective by the fact that you were obviously trying not to smile. "Be nice to the nurses," you told him after she'd gone. 

Dean looked at you innocently. "I was as nice to her as she was to me while she jabbed this needle into my vein earlier."

"That needle is how you're getting your meds." You got to your feet and walked around to the other side of his bed, taking the cold pack from his hand.

Dean was practically pouting now. "That doesn't mean I have to like it."

You clicked your tongue and shook your head at him, gently placing the cold pack on his clavicle at the fracture site. "I never would have pegged Dean Winchester for a needle-phobe."

He practically smirked and said, "I don't know what you've heard exactly, Doc, but I'd wager there are a lot of things you don't know about me yet."

Sam sent two more texts over the next couple of hours, keeping Dean apprised of his whereabouts, but it was a long, restless night. You wished you could do something more, but keeping Dean company, and making sure he didn't panic and bolt was the best help you could give his brother, given the situation. 

It was almost five in the morning, and you were one and a half episodes into a crime scene show that would have put you both to sleep under different circumstances, when the sound of Dean's phone ringing startled you both. Dean accidentally jarred his left arm as he fumbled to grab it. He swore, wincing as he lifted the phone to his ear. 

"Sam? What's going on?" He dragged his teeth across his lower lip as he listened to the response. "Are you okay?" He was silent again, and you watched as he took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "Hey, whatever works. At least you got the job done.... Yeah, get some sleep at the motel if you need to first. I'm in room ... " He looked to you, eyebrows raised in question. 

"209," you offered. 

"Room 209. See you in a bit." He hung up and sighed. "It's finally over. He's cleaning up the mess."

"Is he okay?"

"He says he is."

"What a relief," you said as Dean sat his phone down.

"You can say that again." He let his head fall back against the pillow, and you thought you saw most of the the pent up anxiety and stress he'd been holding onto melt away in a single deep breath. 

You got to your feet, grabbed an extra pillow from the cupboard in the corner and stepped up next to his bed. "He's probably going to be a while cleaning up," you told Dean as you arranged the pillow to his left side. "You might as well be comfortable while you wait, especially now that you can relax knowing that Sam's safe."

Dean opened his mouth like he was going to protest, but thought better of it. 

"How's your pain, one to ten?"

He frowned. "Three. Or at least it will be again in a minute when it stops throbbing. It was fine before I moved it."

You adjusted his IV and said, "I'm going to recline your bed a bit. This pillow will support your arm, so just relax." He nodded, trusting you fully. You pressed the button and the bed moved slowly. You stopped when you thought the angle was enough to allow him to sleep, but not so far that he couldn't comfortably see the TV screen. 

"There. How's that?"

"Perfect, actually." He said, watching you. "You're really good at this taking care of people thing," he added after a beat. 

"Comes with the whole doctor gig."

Dean shook his head, still watching you. "Come on now. Don't sell yourself short. I've seen my share of doctors over the years. It's more than that." 

You smiled. "Get some rest, Winchester."

He looked concerned. "What about you? You going to head home and do the same thing?"

"Nope."

He cocked his head, watching you. "You think I'm a flight risk?"

"Nah," you answered. "Not anymore." He shook his head at you and you added. "You honestly think after all this you're the only one who wants all the juicy details about the hunt when Sam gets back?"

Dean gave you an appraising look and didn't argue as you got comfortable in the big chair in the corner of the room, pulling a blanket up over yourself. 

The chair wasn't exceptionally comfy, but you were warm and sleepy in the blanket and soon felt your eyes growing heavy. Before you drifted off you heard Dean's soft, steady breathing and knew he was fast asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam returns to the hospital to collect his brother, only for you to discover he also needs a little patching up after taking down the Kitsune. You surprise yourself by making the Winchesters an offer they can't refuse.

It was lunch time before Sam got to the hospital. You and Dean had both woken up to another nurse coming in to check on him and bring him some food a few minutes before Sam arrived. It hadn't been a full night's sleep by any means, but you felt considerably more rested after the long nap. 

Judging by Dean's appearance, and the way he perked up when his brother walked in, the few hours of sleep had done him some good as well. He humored the new nurse while she asked him about his pain and a few basic questions to test his memory. 

Sam came to stand by you, and you didn't miss the way he winced when he casually leaned against the wall.

"How's he doing?" Sam asked quietly, gesturing with a nod in Dean's direction. Dean was repeating the Rugby story Sam had given you yesterday while the nurse took down his vitals. 

"Considerably better," you told Sam. "At least he's finally got his story straight."

The nurse changed Dean's IV and left, and Dean looked more than relieved to see her go. 

"Glad you made it back in one piece," you told Sam once you were free to talk openly. 

"Me, too," Sam said. "I'm just glad it's over." 

"One less werewolf pack in the world," Dean said. "And the Kitsune.... Damn, I'd have lost money on that bet."

"I didn't see it coming, either," Sam agreed. He winced again as he pushed off the wall to stand straighter. 

"At a price," you added. "So, what's the damage?" Sam glanced at you, hesitating. "I'm not questioning your skills. It's just that taking that thing on alone, it would be a miracle if you didn't have some battle wounds to show for it."

"I, uh ... "

You understood the instinct he was battling. Hunters weren't especially trusting by nature, though he looked like he was trying to talk himself into it. 

"Spit it out, Sammy," Dean practically ordered. "What did the son of a bitch do?"

"It's nothing much," Sam said, raising his right arm slightly and reaching up and across with the other hand to touch a spot near his shoulder blade. "I'm sure it's fine. I sort of put a bandage on it."

You pushed a chair away from the wall and gestured to it. "Shirt off and have a seat."

Sam seemed to realize he was in a losing battle. He removed his flannel button up, and then carefully pulled his t-shirt over his head, sitting down as you'd asked. Dean started in with questions about the hunt while he ate the lunch the nurse had brought in, and Sam answered him while you assessed his injuries. 

Apparently Sam being fine included several lacerations on his back up toward his right shoulder blade. You winced as you studied the wounds, remembering Dean mentioning the Kitsune's claws. 

Sam had showered at their motel before taking a nap and coming to the hospital, but the bandage he'd somehow managed to cover the wounds with wasn't going to cut it by your standards, not even a little bit. You gathered supplies from the down the hall and set to work properly irrigating the cuts. 

In the end you glued two of them closed with medical adhesive since Dean would be in no shape to remove stitches for him later, and you doubted he'd bother seeking a medical professional. 

Just the thought of Sam standing in front of a crappy motel mirror, looking over his shoulder and attempting to get them out himself had been enough to convince you the adhesive was the way to go. 

"You think the wolves knew what the Kitsune was?" Dean asked Sam. 

"I don't know," Sam said as he slowly pulled his shirts back on and sat in the large chair in the corner. "He had us fooled. I guess anything's possible."

"How did you get close enough to stab it with those claws?" you asked, your curiosity getting the better of you. 

Sam shook his head, almost like he didn't believe what he was about to say himself. "I didn't. I sort of impaled it on a fireplace poker, accidentally."

"And that worked?"

He shrugged and said, "Long story short, I got lucky."

You listened to the easy banter between the Winchester brothers, and aside from making you miss your own brother, you just wanted to do more.

And the longer you thought about it, you didn't want either of them going back to a crappy motel tonight, either. 

After all the excitement calmed down you noticed that Sam looked like he was about five seconds away from falling asleep in the chair. The nap he'd squeezed in at the model hadn’t been enough, and you couldn't blame him. It had been a long night. 

"Sam?" you asked, giving him an apologetic smile when he flinched, on the edge of sleep. 

"Yeah?" He straightened, running a hand through his dark hair.

"How would the two of you feel about not going back to your motel for the night?" you began. "I have a guestroom and no plans. What do you say?"

"You're offering to let us crash at your place?" Sam clarified. 

"I have a few days off, and I know how it is living out of crappy motel rooms and eating nothing but take out. You handled the werewolves nearby, and a Kitsune, which I didn't even know was a thing. The least I can do is put you up for a night and make sure you eat something home-cooked." Sam and a Dean shared a look like they were seriously considering your offer. "Come on. What do you say?"

"That actually sounds awesome," Dean replied, a big goofy grin on his face.

"We don't want to put you out," Sam said. 

"I insist. Those of us in the know have to stick together, right? Besides, I'll feel better knowing you'll get a good night's rest before you drive home."

Sam nodded, smiling. "Thank you. For everything."

"Don't mention it. Are your things in the car or at the motel?"

"The motel," Sam answered. "I'll go grab our stuff and check out."

"We'll be ready when you get back," you told him. "I'll get to work on the discharge orders." Sam left the room and you found Dean watching you. "What?"

"Last chance to back out," Dean said with a grin. "You sure you really want to put a couple of hunters up for the night?" 

"I may not know everything, " you told him. "But I've heard enough stories to know that the world would be a darker place without the Winchesters in it. If I can play some small role in helping your cause, I'd like to do that." You took a deep breath and added, "Even if that just means making sure you both get some real food and a good night's sleep in before you head to wherever you call home."

Dean blinked at you and said, "That was beautiful. Did you practice that while I was sleeping?"

"See, I think the delivery could use some work," you stated. "It felt a little forced."

Dean smiled and looked at you like you'd surprised him with your quick, no-hesitation response. 

"Now let's do the nurses you love to harass a favor and free up this room, shall we?" you quipped. 

"Hell yes," he answered.

You hit the call button and asked the nurses station to ready the discharge paperwork for you to sign. Then you rolled aside the table with his empty lunch tray on it and gently eased his hospital gown down low enough on his chest and shoulders to inspect the area around his broken clavicle. The skin was colored blue and purple with deep bruising, which was to be expected, and as you gently palpated the area you weren't overly concerned with the amount of swelling that was present. 

"You're icing this again later," you told Dean. "I guess you know you're signing up to be bossed around by me for another night by coming to my place."

"What can I say? I think I'm starting to like it." 

Dean watched almost reverently as you turned off the monitor screen and removed the pulse ox clip from his left index finger. The sound of the velcro separating cut through the silence as you unwrapped the automatic blood pressure cuff from around his bicep and pushed the rolling monitor stand aside. "You're almost free," you told him with a smile. 

"Won't know what to do with myself."

You stopped the IV drip, removed the tape from the back of his right hand and skillfully slid the IV needle out of his vein before placing a small piece of gauze and tape in its place. 

"It'll be nice to have at least one arm now," he said. "Thanks."

"Sure thing. I'll take care of that discharge paperwork and be back in a bit. Hold tight. Watch some more bad TV."

“I'll be here.”

When you stopped off at the nurse's station they didn't have the paperwork ready for you yet, so you took advantage of the time by heading to the locker room to have a quick shower and put on a clean pair of scrubs. 

You felt a little more human once you were clean, and spent a few minutes going over Dean's discharge papers and signing everything while you ate something from the vending machine. 

When you walked into the room Sam was back and Dean was dressed in a fresh pair of jeans and a button up flannel shirt. 

Dean blinked at you, well, more so at the wheelchair you'd brought with you. "Seriously? I can walk. I've still got two working legs." 

"Hospital policy," you explained. "We have to wheel you out." Dean pouted and you couldn't help the smile that formed on your lips at the sight.

Sam chuckled and said, "Play nice for a few minutes and you'll be out of here."

Dean sighed reluctantly. "Yeah, okay."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get Dean and Sam settled in at your place, and your temporary house guests offer some useful advice when your brother calls to check in from his latest hunt.

Dean looked like a cat in water as you wheeled him through the hallways of the hospital and into the elevator to get to the lower floor. He hopped up out of the wheelchair faster than you'd seen him move yet just as soon as you parked it next to his car. 

You helped him get settled in the passenger seat while Sam headed around to the back of the car, loading Dean's belongings. 

"How far's your place?" Dean asked. 

"About ten minutes," you answered. "You guys can just follow me."

Dean gave a quick nod and you glanced in Sam's direction. You didn't know what you were expecting to find when you approached the back of the car where Sam was rummaging, but the false bottom in the trunk was impressive, to say the least.

"Better make it quick," you encouraged, your eyes scanning the parking lot to make sure there were no onlookers witnessing the moment. You glanced down again and saw what appeared to be a medium sized first aid kit sitting among the weapons arsenal. Sam didn't protest when you bent to pick it up and opened it, examining the contents. It was a sorry excuse for medical supplies. 

Then again, that usually came with the life.

Hunters were constantly forced to patch themselves up with whatever they managed to find on the road and the local drug stores in whatever town they were ridding of evil. You weren't oblivious to the facts, but the thought bothered you immensely as Sam finished up and you put the kit back in it's place. 

These guys, just like your brother - your parents before - were living a dangerous life trying to help people. They deserved better. 

"All set," Sam said, pulling you from your thoughts. "Lead the way."

Just shy of ten minutes later you were pulling into your garage. You closed it from the outside and unlocked the front door to the house with your key while Sam and Dean made their way up the front walk after having parked on the street. 

They followed you inside and you said, "Make yourselves at home, guys. You'll have to flip a coin for the guest room, but the couch is comfy."

"I'll take the couch," Sam offered, eyeing the sling on Dean's arm. 

Sam carried in their bags, setting them in the guest room. Dean had a long, hot shower. He took his time, partly because the water felt so good on his aching muscles and shoulder, and partly because it took him a lot longer than normal to undress and dress with only one arm. He managed eventually, and when he came out of the bathroom he found Sam asleep on top of the blankets on the guest bed. 

Sam stirred as he entered. "I'm ... I'm up."

Dean frowned at him, knowing Sam was exhausted. "No need. Go back to sleep."

"Nah. I'll never sleep tonight if I do."

You'd been rummaging in the kitchen, gathering ingredients so you could see what your options were for dinner. 

Sam and Dean both joined you in the kitchen, Sam refusing to sleep when you suggested a nap, just like he'd done with Dean. 

"I'm good for a bit," he insisted. 

You took advantage of the down time to ask about different stories you'd heard over the years while you prepared a lasagna. An hour and a half later the three of you were seated around the table for dinner. 

"Where's home base?" you asked casually. 

"Kansas," Sam answered as he took a piece of garlic bread and set it on his plate. 

"We have a bat cave," Dean announced, wagging his eyebrows. 

You blinked at Dean and saw Sam shake his head and grin. "Good lord, tell me you don't actually stay in a damn cave in between hunts," you said. 

Dean beamed at you. "Would that add to my bad boy appeal?"

"It would certainly make me rethink that psych consult," you said with a laugh. 

"It's a bunker actually," Sam said. Then he smiled when he saw the look on your face. "Yeah, I realize that barely sounds like a step up from a cave now that I'm hearing it outloud."

You nodded. "Barely."

"It's awesome," Dean added. "The water pressure in the shower is to die for. And we have our own shooting range."

A soft laugh escaped your lips as you realized he wasn't being sarcastic. "You guys are too much, you know that?"

Dean smirked and gave a little one-shouldered shrug. "We try."

"You do," Sam said to his brother. "You try…. Leave me out of this."

You laughed again and asked Sam to pass the garlic bread. But your phone rang in your pocket just then and you pulled it out, knowing whose name would be on the caller ID before you checked it. 

"Sorry," you said. "My brother's calling to check in."

"Tell him hi," Dean said in between mouthfuls as you stood to leave the table.

You caught the confused glance Sam threw Dean's way, to which Dean just shrugged innocently, wincing when it hurt. 

"Hey," you said as you answered the phone.

"Hey sis, did I catch you at work?"

You smiled, sighing in relief at hearing his voice. "No, I'm home actually. What about you? What are you chasing today?"

"A shapeshifter of some kind, actually. I just can't figure out how to kill the damn thing."

"Uh, I might be able to help you out there," you said slowly. 

He didn't even try to hide his surprise when he said, "Really? How's that?"

"Would you believe me if I told you the Winchesters are here with me?"

You could hear the smile in his tone. "Bullshit."

"True story. You can't make this stuff up. Dean says hi."

There was a brief pause followed by a chuckle on the other end of the line. "God, sis. I don't even know what to say to that."

"I know," you agreed. "I'll tell you the whole story later." Then you held your hand over the phone to dampen the volume and called out, "Hey guys, any tips for taking down a shapeshifter that just won't die?"

"What's he using?" Dean asked around a bite of bread. 

You headed back into the dining room and said, "I'm going to put you on speaker," into the phone before doing just that. 

"Hey, Dean here. Silver not working?" Dean asked. 

"No," your brother answered. "Tried silver bullets, but the damn thing barely flinched."

"Can you tell us anything else about the shifter?" Sam asked, leaning back in his chair in thought. 

There was a beat of silence, and then your brother said, "Well, I don't know if this means anything, but when I caught the thing where it lives last night there were bugs. Everywhere. I mean like full on swarms and nests of insects."

Dean's brow was furrowed in concentration as he listened, but Sam leaned forward in his chair again and said, "Any chance this shifter goes invisible?"

"I dunno. Showed up out of nowhere last night. I wouldn't put it past him."

Dean looked to Sam. "You thinking maybe a Rak-shasta ass ... whatever they're called?"

"A Rakshasha," Sam clarified. "And yeah. Maybe."

"What's his MO?" Dean asked.

"Ugh, he's eating people right in their homes, but he's pretending to be a pest control guy," your brother said. 

"Son of a bitch has an ironic sense of humor," Dean muttered. 

"Yeah, well, that's the part that really gets me," your brother mused. "Why bother pretending to be a stranger making house calls? You know?"

"Yeah," you added. "Why not just imitate Great Aunt Pearl if you want to get in?"

"Because he actually has to be invited inside," Sam answered. "With Great Aunt Pearl the invitation may just be implied."

"A Rakshasha you say?" your brother said slowly. "Never come across one of those before."

"I think that's what you're dealing with," Sam said. "They sleep on a bed of dead insects."

"That explains a few things."

"A brass knife is the key, buddy," Dean added. 

"Brass, huh? Good to know.... Well, fellas, if we ever cross paths drinks are on me."

"Hey, I like this guy," Dean said with a grin. "Your sister here patched both of us up, so what do you say we call it even."

"Good luck, man," Sam added. 

"Thanks."

You took the phone off speaker and held it to your ear again. "Be careful," you told him. "Please."

"I will. You know I will. I know where this thing sleeps. Maybe I'll get the jump on him."

You tried not to picture what that might actually look like. Just the idea of him armed with only a blade and going after this shapeshifter-type thing that could go invisible made you sick to your stomach. "I love you," you said. "Text me when it's done so I know you're safe?"

"Sure thing, mom," he teased, but you knew he would. He understood why you worried. "Love you, too. Gotta go."

You hung up the phone and saw that Dean was watching you while he ate. "Thanks," you said to them both. 

"You said it," Dean replied. "Those of us in the know have to stick together, right?" 

You nodded and shrugged. "That's pretty profound. Sounds like me."

Dean's mouth curved into a smile. Sam's expression seemed like a mix between 'Oh god, I'm so outnumbered' and amusement.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While waiting for his pain killers to kick in, you and Dean have a great conversation and get to know each other a little better as Sam dozes on the couch across the room.

After dinner you reminded Dean to take some pain pills and he only hesitated briefly before he gave in and accepted the two tablets you held out in your palm for him. He popped them into his mouth and then took the glass of water to swallow them with. 

Sam and Dean hung out in the living room while you cleaned up dinner, and when you joined them you saw that Sam had already fallen asleep on one of the couches, having found the pillow and blankets you'd put out for him.

"At least he got his boots off before he crashed," Dean said from the loveseat. 

You pulled a light blanket over Sam and turned off the lamp nearest to him. "He's exhausted. Poor guy."

"Long couple of days," Dean agreed. 

"How about you?" you asked. "You ready to call it a night?"

"I'm not quite there. I don't really sleep on this side of midnight. Habit, I guess. Don't stay up on account of me, though."

"I'm kind of the same way," you admitted. "Habit, I guess." You bit your lip and said, "Well, I'd offer you a beer, but you're not mixing alcohol with those pain pills." You gave him a knowing glance. "At least not on my watch." Dean smirked but didn't feign innocence. "I do think I have a couple of Cokes in the fridge.... "

"Sounds great.” 

You retrieved the sodas and an ice pack and joined him again. Dean eyed the ice pack as you approached and began fumbling with the buttons on his plaid shirt with one hand. 

"Here, let me...." You sat next to him and leaned over, making quick work of the top few buttons.

Dean conceded, leaning back so you could slip the ice pack past the material of his shirt inside to rest on his clavicle. "Thanks."

"Sure." You sat on the loveseat next to him, angling yourself so you could face him a little. You opened a can and handed it to him. 

"Worried about your brother?" Dean asked. 

You shrugged and said, "Always. You know how it is." Dean gave you an understanding nod. "It's kind of nice having someone else to talk to who gets it, though. That's new."

"Yeah, I guess you'd look even crazier than I did running around the hospital talking about monsters," he agreed. 

"I'm sure it would be slightly frowned upon. Probably just yank my license to practice."

"So," Dean said. "Do you make a habit of bringing home strays, or did you just make an exception because I'm so adorable?"

You grinned, wondering how he managed to say things like that without sounding like a total ass. "A better word might be pitiful."

"Oh, I see how it is," he said with a little chuckle. "And hey, I'm not totally useless," he added, glancing down at his arm in the sling. "Okay, maybe I am."

"You're good company," you said. "So, there's that." You bit your lip and watched him for a moment. 

Dean cast a sideways glance at you, but you couldn't read his expression. "Can I ask you something?" he said after a moment. 

"Shoot."

"Why medicine?" he asked. You must have looked taken aback by the question, because he seemed to feel the need to elaborate on it. "I mean, you're damn good at it. I'm just curious is all."

You bit your lip, considered him a moment. "Same reason you became a hunter, I imagine. To help people. In the ER there's always someone who needs my help, and there's never a dull moment. Seemed a good fit."

Dean nodded like your answer satisfied him. "So, you're an adrenaline junkie."

"Maybe not in so many words," you said, smiling. "Kids raised by hunters can't really grow up to have desk jobs, can we now?"

Dean raised an eyebrow, his head tilting with the slightest nod. You saw his gaze shift briefly to look at his brother. Sam was still fast asleep on the couch, and you could hear his slow and steady breathing in the quiet. 

"You're right about that," Dean agreed without taking his eyes off his brother. 

You couldn't help but wonder what the story was behind that loaded glance of his, but Dean didn't volunteer the information, and you decided it would have to be a question for another time. 

"Tell me about this bat cave of yours," you said. 

Dean's eyes brightened and he launched into a riveting tale about an organization he referred to as The Men Of Letters. He told you about the bunker, and how he and Sam hadn't really had a home base until they found it. How they traveled the country in the Impala, and even how he'd rebuilt the classic car himself several times along the way. 

You'd heard your share of stories about the Winchesters over the years, but you were quickly realizing that none of those stories had more than just skimmed the surface of the truth. You could tell by the way Sam and Dean acted that they were especially close, but listening to Dean you sensed just how deep the love and sense of responsibility he felt for Sam was. 

You felt the same way toward your brother, and listening to Dean talk made you miss him even more, but also served as a good distraction from the fact that he was currently battling a rare type of shapeshifter.

Before you knew it an hour had passed, and you were fairly certain it had been enough time for Dean's painkillers to kick in.

"You have a way with storytelling," you said, taking the last sip from your can. 

Dean chuckled, a rumble that started deep in his chest and put a grin on your face. "That sounds like a nice way of saying I'm full of shit." 

"Oh, I'm sure you are," you told him. "But just this once take the compliment. You might not get another." He smiled, nodding. "How you feeling?" you asked him. "Think you'll be able to sleep?"

He took a breath, considering you. "Yeah, sure."

You took his empty Coke can from him and stood up, offering a hand to help him get up off the couch. He looked at you and hesitated briefly. "Come on, big guy," you insisted. "Let me help you get settled. This doctor thing isn't something I can just turn off."

Dean nodded, smiling almost imperceptibly and reached up to take your outstretched hand. You pulled him to his feet and went to retrieve his prescription and a glass of water and a package of crackers while he made his way to the guest room. He called out for you to come in when you knocked, but his voice sounded strained. He wasn't quick enough to hide the grimace of pain on his face when you entered the room.

“What's wrong?” you asked, hurrying forward to move his duffel from the bed so he could sit. 

“Nothing. I'm good.” But he grunted the words as he turned to fully face you. 

“Nice try. Going to have to be more convincing than that,” you told him.

“Just jarred my bad arm with this hand while I was undoing my pants is all,” he admitted, holding up his right hand with an exasperated sigh. “Shit…. I'm all sorts of useless.”

Your smile was sympathetic. He was cute when he was frustrated. Despite his predicament, he'd somehow managed to finish removing his jeans before you'd returned. They were in a heap on the carpet, and he had on a pair of flannel pajama bottoms. 

He moved to finish unbuttoning his long-sleeved shirt, but you stopped him with a gentle hand. “Here. I've got it.” You had to be mistaken about the color you thought you glimpsed rising in his cheeks while he stood there as you worked on the buttons. You waited for the smart-ass remark about just wanting to get him out of his clothes, but it never came. You hadn't known Dean long, but apparently just long enough to be surprised by that.

You carefully removed the sling long enough to help him out of the button up shirt, leaving him in just the white tank top underneath. After a few minutes he was comfortably situated in the guest bed, his left arm propped up with a spare pillow. You placed two pain pills on the nightstand by the clock with a few crackers and a glass of water for him and said, "You can't have these until five in the morning, and eat a few crackers with them. They're hard on your stomach. "

"Got it."

"Anything else you need?" you asked. 

"I'm good," he said. "And thank you. This beats a motel any day."

"Sleep well, Winchester." You smiled and turned out the light. 

"You, too," you heard him say as you stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind you. 

You locked all the doors and covered Sam with another blanket before heading for bed. As you closed your eyes you contemplated how one little act had led to another, resulting in Dean and Sam Winchester crashing at your place for the night. You just couldn't shake the feeling that there was a bit of fate involved in Dean winding up in your hospital. And you didn't even believe in that sort of thing. At least, you kept telling yourself that as you drifted off to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You put together a little parting gift for Dean and Sam as they prepare to hit the road.

In the morning you were the first one to wake up. You checked your phone to see that a text had come from your brother.

Got him, sis. You can quit worrying now. Be home in a few days.

You breathed a sigh of relief and sent him a reply telling him you were glad he was safe. You were also glad that Sam and Dean seemed to be getting some good rest, and you quietly busied yourself with making a first aid kit. You always kept supplies in your medicine cabinet, and you regularly restocked your brother's kit when he was in town. Half an hour later you were satisfied you had built a first aid kit worthy of the Winchesters.

You hopped in the shower and blow dried your hair, getting ready for the day before you ventured out into the kitchen. You put some coffee on and started throwing ingredients together for omelets. Sam was the first to come into the kitchen, greeting you with a smile.

"Morning," you told him as you gestured for him to have a seat at the snack bar. He pulled up a stool and sat down, accepting a cup of coffee from you with a thank you. "Sleep okay?" you asked, though suspected you already knew the answer. He looked more refreshed than you'd seen him yet.

"I slept great, actually," he answered before taking a sip from the mug. "I don't even remember falling asleep on the couch last night, but I must have zonked out completely. How about you?"

"I always crash hard after a long shift at the hospital," you answered as you adjusted the heat on the stove. 

"I bet. Thanks again for putting us up."

"Don't mention it," you said as you used a spatula to remove an omelet from the pan and slide it onto a plate. You set it down on the counter in front of Sam and his eyes widened, a smile spreading across his face. 

"A doctor and a chef," he teased. "Is there anything you can't do?"

"I'd wager not," Dean stated in answer as he approached, pulling up a stool next to Sam.

"It's an omelet," you said. "They're pretty hard to mess up."

"Not true," Dean stated. "Sam could mess up an omelet."

Sam looked like he wanted to argue with his brother, but conceded, taking a bite of his omelet instead. 

Dean's hair was messy from sleep. Sitting there on the stool wearing a tank top and flannel pajama bottoms - and the obligatory sling - he hardly looked like the hardened hunter he was. 

"How about you? Sleep okay?" you asked Dean. 

"I slept great. So great, in fact, that I haven't taken these yet." He dropped the pain pills you'd left on his nightstand on the counter. 

"Breakfast first then," you said as you handed him a cup of coffee. 

He thanked you and took a sip, elbowing Sam lightly. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Sleeping Beauty."

"Haha," Sam said between bites.

You slid another omelet onto a plate and set it before Dean. 

"Thank you. Have you heard from your brother yet?" he asked.

"Got a text this morning. He got the Rakshasha, thanks to you two."

"Glad to hear it," Sam said as Dean chewed a bite of omelet.

"He's okay, then?" Dean asked, his brow furrowed in genuine concern.

"He's good," you said as you tossed some cheese into the pan for your own omelet. "One less monster in the world."

"Amen to that," Sam said, raising his cup of coffee to you. You clinked yours against it and smiled, taking a sip.

The three of you moved over to the table when your omelet was ready and sat for over an hour talking, eating and drinking coffee.

It was so comfortable, so incredibly nice to have company you had things in common with … things that normal people just didn't understand. Sam eventually went to shower and get dressed for the day, and Dean did the same after him. You had to work to hide your disappointment when Sam announced that they should be hitting the road.

You followed them out to the car, and it wasn't until Sam opened the trunk and you saw that sad first aid kit that you remembered the one you'd put together while they'd been sleep. 

"I almost forgot," you announced. "I have something for you." You went back inside and retrieved the kit, which was basically a medium sized plastic tool box you'd filled with supplies. "Here," you said as you handed it to Sam. "New first aid kit," you explained as he and Dean looked at it with curiosity.

"Seriously?" Sam asked with a smile as he opened the latch and raised the lid to gaze inside. "That's great, actually. Thanks."

Dean leaned over to take a peek. "Well hell, Doc. It's like you think we're going to go out looking for trouble or something."

You grinned and said, "Just try to let that clavicle heal up a bit first, kay?"

Dean smiled. "I can't make any promises."

"I can," Sam interjected as he closed the first aid kit again. "No hunting until you lose the training wheels." He nodded toward Dean's sling and Dean frowned, making you laugh. Sam put the first aid kit in the trunk and Dean took a step closer to you.

"Thanks again, Doc," Dean said.

You looked up at him and found yourself missing those green eyes already. "Don't mention it. And seriously ... take care of yourself."

"Do my best." Dean gazed at you for a beat and then added, "If you're ever in the mood for a road trip, you're welcome at the bat cave."

You grinned and said, "I'll remember that. Thanks. And if I can ever help out, you know, with questions about how to best handle a hunting injury or anything, don't hesitate to call."

Dean's eyes were locked on yours, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "You know, I'd love to take you up on that, but ... well, you never gave me your number."

"I've got it," Sam said as he passed by, holding up his phone to you. "I'll text you my number."

Dean rolled his eyes at his brother and you laughed, shrugging innocently at Dean. Your phone beeped a second later and you pulled it out to see a text that said, 'Sam here.'

You grinned and looked over at Sam, waving your phone a little. "Got it, Sam. Thanks."

"All right," Dean said, feigning insult. "I see how how it's gonna be."

He turned to go and you stopped him with a hand on his good arm. "Hey," you said. Dean paused, turning back to look at you. He wet his lips with his tongue, chest rising and falling with a breath. God, even his eyes were smiling. "Stay safe," you told them both, including Sam with a glance "And call me if I can ever help. Promise."

"That goes both ways," Dean said. "Promise?"

You nodded. Dean gave you a killer smile, as if to remember him by, and then he climbed into the passenger side of the Impala while Sam slid in behind the wheel.

You watched as the engine purred to life and Sam and Dean Winchester drove out of your neighborhood. 

You had a feeling it wouldn't be the last time you saw them as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, let yourself dwell on those gorgeous green eyes of Dean's for just one second longer, and then headed back inside to face the real world again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Act I of the saga is complete. Continue the journey in Heart of a Hunter - Act II (Complete.)


End file.
